


A Shell

by wheresmywatson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, John is with Mary, M/M, Podfic, Post-Apocalypse, Sherlock's mind is not completely sound, audio, it's on soundcloud but I don't think you can download it?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheresmywatson/pseuds/wheresmywatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a post-apocalyptic Britain, Sherlock is not the man he used to be.</p>
<p>Now with an optional audio reading of the first chapter!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nyatsuma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyatsuma/gifts).



> I'd like to apologise for knowing nothing about Apocalypses. This is my first attempt at something like this so please go easy on me! I also know it feels rushed... sorry! I'm used to writing porn not action ha ha haaa.

Sherlock often thought back to the last few weeks he had spent in Baker Street, wondering how things might have turned out differently if he had looked past the arrogant attitude of his last client and chosen to take the case. Would the country be in such ruins now, or could Sherlock have prevented it with a bit of simple snooping around beforehand and then passing on his information to Mycroft?

He wondered, too, whether John was still out there somewhere and had made his way back to Mary. A month before the nuclear attack, John had been called back to the army and left behind a newly born child.

None of this was fair.

"Sherlock?"

Greg had entered the room where Sherlock was hiding with his thoughts, lying on his back and memorising every fracture in the ceiling. The older man sat down beside him and ran a hand gently through his hair.

"Are you feeling alright?"

It had taken the two men a few months to find each other at first and then it had been Greg who stumbled upon Sherlock's trembling form, strung out on hospital supplies in an attempt to stimulate his mind in a world where there were no more puzzles or mysteries for him to solve.

"Are we leaving?" Sherlock asked, ignoring Greg's question and sitting up.

"Yeah, Anderson spotted a scout while he was on watch so we need to clear out before Moriarty's men turn up to strip away our supplies."

Moriarty was one of the only men who had somehow managed to thrive in the aftermath, by employing men and women to steal supplies from others in order to build themselves a master camp where life could _almost_ pass as normal. In the more recent months, more and more people had been making their way to Moriarty's camp and willingly giving up any rights they'd had by themselves in return for the security of food and shelter.

Then there was Anderson, full of surprises. When Greg had brought Sherlock back, Anderson had helped him recover from the drugs he'd stuffed into his system and, when Sherlock had shortly also contracted one of the diseases running rampant through the wasteland, had worked steadily alongside Greg to bring him as close to full health again as was possible.

Greg pulled Sherlock to stand and they joined the rest of their small group in the living room of the house they had occupied. Packs were being rolled up and distributed between people to carry, their diminishing supplies at least making for a quick escape.

"Matthew's out the front," Anderson said to Greg as he walked over. "We should have the time if we leave now to get far enough ahead that they won't track us down again for a while. That said, if the scout comes back again..."

"We'll have to kill him," Greg finished, picking up his rifle and nodding at Anderson. "It's too dangerous to risk being followed. "

Anderson turned to Sherlock and thrust a bag into his arms. "Have you got enough energy for this?" It was no secret that Sherlock was getting weaker and weaker as time went by, the lack of stimulation for his mind affecting his body as he deteriorated.

"He'll be fine," Greg answered for him.

Sherlock spoke rarely and few words at a time lately. A few weeks ago he had stopped talking to anyone that wasn't Greg, whether to conserve energy or because of the state of his mind no one could say. Greg didn't question him about it, but kept talking to him normally whenever he could in the hopes that it would coax more words from Sherlock's lips.

The last of the supplies were handed out and the group was making their way to the door when they felt a blast shake through the floor. Something slammed against the building and a strangled cry was heard from Matthew before a window was smashed in and a grenade rolled towards the middle of the room.

"Get down!"

Sherlock was thrown to the floor and shielded by Greg's body as the grenade exploded and sent debris raining down around them. Without any time to think, Sherlock then found himself being hauled up again and dragged to the door at the back. Greg pushed him outside, following quickly but limping.

"They must have been closer than we thought," Greg said as he panted, still holding Sherlock with one arm as he dragged them as far away from the scene as possible. Sherlock was stumbling along in a daze, the knife he kept in his belt now in his hand in case he needed to use it against anyone.

A few others from their group had managed to get out as well, but Sherlock knew that they had lost at least a couple.

"Look out!" Anderson yelled from behind them as a bullet whizzed past Greg's head. They ducked down but kept moving between the run-down houses, searching for an escape that was desperately needed.

Just as quickly as a man swathed in black appeared in front of them between the houses and took aim, he toppled to the ground with a bullet in his chest. In his place, a shorter man dressed in khaki scrambled forward and rushed towards them. There was a moment of hesitation as Greg tensed and prepared to shoot at this new threat, but then they noticed the huge grin and Greg barked out a laugh.

"John!"

"Greg! It's so good to see you!" They shared a brief hug before John turned his attention to Sherlock, putting a hand on the thin man's shoulder. "God it's good to see you again, Sherlock. I heard rumours that the disease got you."

Sherlock swallowed against his parched throat, wishing he could speak but finding no words.

"It did," Greg said after a pause, realising Sherlock wasn't going to find his voice just yet. "He's managing, but we could use a proper doctor."

"Is he okay?" John asked softly, looking up at Greg again. "It's not just the disease, is it?"

"To be honest, he's not been too good for a while. There's nothing for him to do out here, and you know what that used to do to him even back in Baker Street."

"Mary," Sherlock choked out suddenly, staring at John still.

John grinned again, wide and joyful. "She's fine! She and the baby. Safe back at the protection camp. You have _got_ to come back there with me. You'll all get the treatment you need and-"

"Now's not really the best time for a chat!" Anderson called, rushing up to them and herding them forward with the rest of the group who had made it out. John apologised and quickly beckoned for them to follow him, leading them through the buildings in a zig-zag pattern to get them out safely while leaving the Spiders, as Moriarty's men were named, behind.

When they reached a road, John beckoned them over to the waiting truck, standing aside as he waved them up and made sure they all got in safely. Greg and Sherlock had hung back, allowing others to go in first as Greg bent to check his leg for how badly damaged it was from the grenade.

"You've shredded some muscle," John said as he glanced over. "I've got a first aid kit in the truck. You'll be fine, though, with the proper care."

With a thankful nod, Greg then turned to Sherlock and pushed him up towards the truck.

Sherlock had just reached up and was pulling himself in when a hot, searing pain shot through his middle and his legs buckled beneath him. He looked down as he slid from the truck onto the ground, a hand pressing against his stomach and instantly being covered in blood.

Someone was screaming his name. His eyes blinked sleepily and then closed.


	2. Audio Reading of Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I haven't actually written any more for this story yet, but here's something else to interest you! An audio version! I was so excited when I listened to the recording I can't even begin to explain it haha.
> 
> You should definitely check out the tumblr which I've linked below! They do readings of all kinds of fanfic! :)

[A Shell - Chapter One - Click here to listen!](http://ijusthadaneargasm.tumblr.com/post/67413633960/a-shell-by-wheresmywatson-read-by)

Read by [foxeswithsoxes](http://foxeswithsoxes.tumblr.com/)

Thanks to the [ijusthadaneargasm](http://ijusthadaneargasm.tumblr.com/) tumblr!

 


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